


Wake Up Call

by the_dragongirl



Series: Waking [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hangover, M/M, May The Fourth Be With You, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon finally talk about their feelings, Qui-Gon Lives, or some of their feelings at any rate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dragongirl/pseuds/the_dragongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan wakes up after a night of overindulgence, and finds himself in the one place (and with the one person) he had resolved to stay away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call

“Obi-Wan!”

The sound of a high and (painfully) enthusiastic voice shouting his name in delight shook Obi-Wan out of a sound sleep. His mouth tasted like a Dantooine swamp; his head throbbed in time to his heartbeat, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he had gotten home last night. His stomach was...well, he probably wasn’t going to vomit, thank the Force, but it was certainly making its disapproval of his life choices known. He tried to cajole his hungover brain into thinking back to what had happened after than fifth bar Garen had dragged them all into, but he only got as far as recalling the taste of that truly _awful_ brandy, before a small body impacting his drove the breath out of his lungs and scattered the thoughts from his head.

“A-Ani?” he stuttered groggily, as he cracked open his eyes to see a small blond-haired body latched onto him like a limpet-mine. He returned the hug automatically, while he tried to remember why in the Force Anakin was in his quarters, and when his bed had gotten so lumpy, and…

And that was the point at which Obi-Wan finally registered his surroundings. Because he knew that particular pattern of lumps, from far too many cat naps during late night studying sessions from his Padawan days. This was not his bed. These were not his quarters. These were _Qui-Gon’s_ quarters.

Shit.

Oh, kriffing hells, he had been so good about not invading Qui-Gon’s space since his recovery! Qui-Gon had Anakin for his Padawan now, and Obi-Wan had been so careful to respect that and keep his distance. After all, Obi-Wan was a Knight. That meant he should be able to function without his old Master’s guidance. It would be irresponsible of him to continue to demand a share of Qui-Gon’s time in light of that, especially when Anakin was so deeply in need of the attention (and especially when his reasons for desiring Qui-Gon’s company were so far from appropriate…no. He had resolved not to think about that anymore. He would master his attachments. He would!)

But apparently, all it took to overcome his self discipline was a night out with Garen and Bant, and a great deal of liquor. Obi-Wan spared a moment to hope that maybe Qui-Gon hadn’t noticed his presence yet. Yes, perhaps he had simply wandered here in his intoxication and let himself in after Qui-Gon had gone to bed. Now, if Obi-Wan could just manage to extricate himself from Anakin without waking Qui-Gon, he might manage to make it out of this without actually dying of mortification.

“Ani,” Obi-Wan said, levering himself into a sitting position and gently attempting to pry the boy off of him without jostling his own aching head overmuch. “It’s wonderful to see you, but I really should be going. It would be very rude of me to impose on Master Qui-Gon any further.”

“No!” Anakin exclaimed, and Obi-Wan winced at the volume of his voice. Anakin backed off only far enough to look Obi-Wan in the eye, maintaining a tight grip on his tunic. “You have to stay for breakfast! It’s been ages since we saw you, and I know Master Qui-Gon misses you too. You wouldn’t be imposing, I’m sure!”

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon’s voice said from behind them, and and Obi-Wan’s heart dropped into his stomach. So much for that plan. “Give Obi-Wan a bit of space, won’t you? He had a rather rough night, and I’m sure he’s feeling it now.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed, and he let go of Obi-Wan’s tunic to take a step back and examine Obi-Wan more thoroughly. “You’re not hurt, are you? Because if you are, then you definitely have to stay. Or maybe we should take you the healers.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, coming around the couch. A small, well-hidden part of Obi-Wan lit up at the site of his former Master’s face, while a larger part of him cringed at how stiffly Qui-Gon still moved. Clearly, he was not as recovered as Obi-Wan had been led to believe. “There’s nothing wrong with Obi-Wan that some water and a few painkillers won’t fix, and we have both in abundance.”

Anakin’s expression relaxed. “Oh, he’s just hungover. Well, that’s no problem. We can get that fixed up, and then I can make us all breakfast, and then…”

“Now, Padawan,” Qui-Gon interrupted, his voice even, but firm. “you have a navigation course this morning, do you not? One which, if I recall correctly, starts in fifteen minutes?”

“Well, yeah,” Anakin admitted. “But can’t I skip it just this once, Master?  I haven’t seen Obi-Wan for months! He’s never around anymore, so who _knows_ when I’ll get to see him again.”

Qui-Gon cocked his head. “That is a fair point, Padawan,” he said gravely. “One which is certainly relevant to these negotiations, and should be given due consideration. However, I think I can propose an alternative solution, if Obi-Wan would oblige us.” Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, a familiar twinkle of mischief in his eye. “Obi-Wan, in order to avoid providing my Padawan with an excuse to skip his morning classes, would you be so kind as to join us here for dinner tonight?”

“I…,” Obi-Wan’s mind raced, trying to find an excuse, _any_ excuse that would get him out of this without further embarrassment. But then he saw that hopeful, pleading look in Anakin’s eyes, and sighed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Wizard!” Anakin exclaimed, nearly vibrating in his excitement.

The corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth quirked, and he laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Since it seems you will be attending class after all, shouldn’t you be going?”

Anakin glanced at the chrono, and his face paled. “Oh kr...I mean, yes, Master.” He sketched a quick bow, and then flashed them both a grin. “I’ll see you both tonight!” he said, before grabbing a datapad from the table and dashing out the door.

The silence that followed Anakin’s departure seemed almost to echo in Obi-Wan’s ears. He had spent years in Qui-Gon’s company without struggling to make conversation, but after the few short months of separation, he found that he wasn’t at all sure how to break the odd tension that thrummed between them. Qui-Gon was staring at him with a strange intensity that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite interpret, while Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to look Qui-Gon in the eye at all.

Finally, Obi-Wan could take it no longer. He cleared his throat, and stuttered. “I-I’m sorry for invading your space like this, Qui-Gon. I promise, I wasn’t actually intending make such a nuisance of myself.”

Qui-Gon smiled at him, that familiar half-smirk that had characterized many of Obi-Wan’s more...interesting conversations with his Master over the years. “Oh, I definitely got that impression. Really, it was rather irresponsible of your friends to leave you alone in that state, but it wasn’t any trouble to me. You’re a fascinating conversationalist when intoxicated; did you know that?”

Obi-Wan blanched at that. Oh, sweet Force, what had he _said_? What might he had _told_ Qui-Gon? He couldn’t have told him...no. Surely Qui-Gon wouldn’t be reacting so calmly if he had told him _that_. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and tried to calm his racing heart. “I..have been told that, yes. I must admit, though, that I don’t recall this particular instance. In fact, I don’t actually remember coming here at all.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “I didn’t realize you were quite that badly off. Did you not bother to purge _any_ of what you drank last night?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I seem to recall Garen insisting that keeping my blood alcohol down to responsible levels was ‘against the spirit of a Knighting celebration’, or something like that. Of course, he _also_ said that he and Bant would keep me from doing anything overly foolish, so obviously I should have considered his word on the matter with greater skepticism.”

“Well,” Qui-Gon said, amusement clear in his voice, “he was right about the general philosophy of a Knighting celebration. Or, well, that’s certainly in line with how my own Knighting celebration went. Luckily for you, though, you’ve got someone around to fetch you water and painkillers in the morning.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” Obi-Wan mumbled. “I have both in my own quarters, and I’m sure that you have better things to do this morning than help me remedy my own stupidity.” He glanced around surreptitiously for his robe and boots, trying to figure out where they might have gotten off to. He would, after all, look like a bit of a fool if he left them behind.

“Nonsense,” Qui-Gon scoffed. “I’m still on half-duty these days, and the healers have forbidden me from any kind of training or sparring for the time being, so I really don’t have much to fill my days while Anakin’s in class. And besides,” and there was that strange, intense look again, “Anakin was right about one thing. I _have_ missed you. So, you just sit tight, and I’ll be back in a moment.”

He bustled off before Obi-Wan could manage to formulate a reply to that, only to return a moment later with a glass of water and an analgesic patch. He pressed both into Obi-Wan’s hands, and then lowered himself into the chair opposite the couch with a small groan. Obi-Wan applied the patch to the back of his neck, and took a slow sip of the water, trying to figure out what to say to his former Master. He was unaccustomed to finding conversation with Qui-Gon this difficult, and his own hungover state was certainly not helping matters.

Qui-Gon seemed to sense Obi-Wan’s struggle, and took pity on him. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that you’d be imposing on me,” Qui-Gon said, with a deliberate casualness that sounded anything but to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Most new Knights worry about their old Master’s imposing on _their_ new independence, not the other way around.”

Obi-Wan snorted at that. “Yes, well. Most Masters of new Knights don’t have new Padawans to occupy their time. And I know better than anyone how exhausting managing Anakin can be, even when one is in perfect health. His intentions are good of course, and he’s certainly trying, but..”

“But one cannot learn years of Temple discipline in the course of a few months, yes, I know,” Qui-Gon finishes. “He’s made amazing progress, though, in the short time he’s been with me, and he’s an utter joy to teach. I am confident that, with guidance, he’ll make a fine Jedi Knight one day. And he and I both have you to thank for the opportunity.”

“Me?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Really, Qui-Gon, all I did was look after him for you for a short while. That’s nothing that requires thanks.”

“Oh, that’s all you did, is it?” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at him. “So I suppose Mace was lying when he came in here a few weeks ago to bend my ear about ‘passing on my rebel tendencies to my Padawans’, then? _He_ said that you shouted down the whole Council when they tried to discuss sending Anakin away before I recovered, claiming they could either treat Anakin as my Padawan or yours, but either way, he was staying where he was until I could have my say in the matter.”

Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat at that. That had _not_ been one of his prouder moments. Oh, it was certainly underhanded of the Council to try and shuffle Anakin off while Qui-Gon was still unconscious, and Obi-Wan had no regrets about preventing it, but surely he could have found a way of doing it that was more diplomatic and in keeping with appropriate Jedi discipline. Or, at least, less likely to get him assigned to every single one of the worst missions that the Council could possibly give a new Knight.

Qui-Gon chuckled at Obi-Wan’s expression. “Ah, so perhaps Mace was telling the truth after all.” His smile softened. “Even if he hadn’t said anything, though, I would have known that you did a fair bit more than just ‘looking after him.’ If nothing else, the fact that Anakin had somehow already been placed in all his classes and learned the basics of meditation before I woke up would have given it away. Or perhaps the fact that Anakin won’t stop talking about you.”   

Obi-Wan sighed. “Alright, yes, I may have taken a somewhat proprietary interest in his well-being. But someone had to do it. And besides, you asked me...” Obi-Wan voice hitched slightly at the memory, and he drank the last of the water to cover the slip. Qui-Gon was right here, and quite visibly on the mend, not dying in Obi-Wan’s arms on Naboo. It was utterly ridiculous of Obi-Wan to let the fear of what might have been unsettle him this much. “You asked me to see to his training. The least I could do was make sure that he was ready to begin when you woke up.”

“You went a fair bit beyond ‘the least you could do’, Obi-Wan. And I’m grateful for it,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “But you see, that’s why I don’t understand why you thought you’d imposing on me. Anakin may be my priority right now, but there’s no reason why your presence would interfere with that. Surely you must have noticed how fond Anakin is of you. I swear he’s been asking after you every few days, wanting to know when you’re going to come see us. I hadn’t wanted to bother you about it, because I know how busy the Council has been keeping you since my recovery, and those first few months of Knighthood are always crucial for establishing independence, but I always thought you’d come and visit if you wanted and had the time.” Qui-Gon hesitated, then continued.  “Is...is it something I’ve done, Obi-Wan? Have I somehow made you feel that you would be unwelcome?”

“What? No! It’s just that...” Obi-Wan paused, looking down at his hands, gripped tightly around the empty glass. He forced himself to open them, and set the glass down on the table in front of him. “Anakin may be fond of me, but that doesn’t mean my presence would actually have been good for him. He is at such a delicate stage right now. I’m sure you’ve noticed how difficult he’s found it, learning to trust that he has a place here. He is going to need to rely on the strength of his bond with you in order to find stable footing. The last thing he needs is someone else hanging about and making him feel like he has to compete for his Master’s attention.”

“Like I made you compete with Xanatos’ ghost, you mean,” Qui-Gon said softly.

Obi-Wan looked up at him in horror. “No, Ma...Qui-Gon! That’s not...I never said…”

“No, you didn’t,” Qui-Gon said, his voice low, and his eyes tired. “You never said a word. When I ignored you, or doubted you, or left you behind, you never gave me a word of complaint. But that doesn’t make it any less true. I was too wrapped up in my own grief and sorrow to give you my undivided attention then when you were at that ‘delicate stage’, and I know you suffered for it.”

“Qui-Gon, that’s…” Obi-Wan’s thoughts seethed, trying to find the right words to reassure him. “This isn’t about me. I really was just talking about Anakin, and I…”

“No, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon interrupted, in that same firm voice that Obi-Wan had always found so hard to disobey as a Padawan. “Please, let me finish. You may not remember what you said last night, but I do, and I can’t just leave things the way they are.” He took a breath, visibly steeling himself, and then continued. “I need you to know that you have never been a burden to me, Obi-Wan. You have never been a replacement or a second choice or a placeholder until something better came along. I was occasionally too much of an idiot to see that, but it was always true.”

Qui-Gon sighed, and the weariness in his eyes seemed to deepen. “You said last night that you thought you were easily replaced. But Force, Obi-Wan, that couldn’t be farther from the truth! I didn’t recommend you for Knighthood because I was eager to get rid of you. Just the opposite. You’ve been ready for Knighthood for so long now. I should have sent you to your Trials over a year ago. But in my selfish desire to hold onto to you, to keep you by my side a little bit longer, I delayed, and delayed, and delayed.” Qui-Gon smiled then, a small, self-deprecating smile that made Obi-Wan’s heart ache. “And then the Force made it clear that my selfishness had to end. Because here was a boy who unquestionably had to be trained, and there would be no one to train him. Not unless I finally stopped holding you back.

“So you see, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, with an earnestness that made Obi-Wan’s breath catch, “you were not easy to replace. Not by any measure. You were, in fact, so hard to replace that the Force itself had to intervene, to make me let you go. I may have been too much of a fool to tell you so, but I could not be prouder of you, or more honored to have been your Master.”

“I...Qui-Gon, I…” Obi-Wan struggled to speak around the lump in his throat. To his horror, he could actually feel tears prickling his eyes.

“Oh, for the love of…” Qui-Gon muttered, then hauled himself out of chair, crossing the room to sit next to Obi-Wan on the couch, and opening his arms. “Come here, Obi-Wan.”

And Obi-Wan went. Gratefully, eagerly, but with a caution borne of dozens of sleepless nights spent by an unconscious Qui-Gon’s bedside, Obi-Wan fell into his former Master’s embrace. Qui-Gon’s arms tightened around him, one broad hand coming to rest in the center of Obi-Wan’s back, the other tucking his head Qui-Gon’s chin and cradling it there.

“Should have been there to do this when you were Knighted,” Qui-Gon muttered into Obi-Wan’s hair. “Should have seen to it months before that disaster on Naboo, so you never had to doubt that you were worthy of it. Because you are, Obi-Wan. I have never known one worthier of his Knighthood, and I am so, so proud.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to respond. He simply tightened his hands where they were fisted in Qui-Gon’s tunics, inhaling the familiar scent of the man he had lived with for over a decade (and loved for much of that time), and let himself relax in the safety the Qui-Gon’s embrace for the first time in years.

They stayed like that for long moments, neither of them speaking. And if Qui-Gon’s shoulder was somewhat damp by the end...well, neither of them was going to mention it.

Finally, Obi-Wan collected himself to pull away, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes with his sleeve as he did so. Qui-Gon let him go, but stayed seated where he was, watching Obi-Wan intently.

Obi-Wan coughed to clear his throat. “I...I do apologize, Qui-Gon. That unseemly display...well, I assure you, my control is usually better than that these days.”

“There isn’t anything to apologize for,” Qui-Gon said softly, his face completely empty of the pity Obi-Wan had feared to see there. “We are taught to release our emotions into the Force, it is true. But that does not mean we do not feel. It simply means we do not let those feelings master us. And I imagine that you feel somewhat better now, do you not?”

“I...well, yes, I suppose I do,” Obi-Wan, slightly shocked to find that it was true. It seemed as though a share of the weight he had been carrying around since Naboo had lifted, and he was left feeling strangely light.

“There you go then,” Qui-Gon said with grin. He cocked his head then, considering. “I would offer you breakfast now, but in spite of Anakin’s enthusiasm earlier, we really don’t have much that’s palatable here the moment, since we’re due our weekly order of perishables this afternoon. And I imagine your stomach’s not up for whatever rehydrated slop I can put together out of the remains in the back of cupboard.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Obi-Wan said quickly. “I’m sure Bant and Garen are looking for me by now. Well, Bant is at least. I’d imagine Garen is probably even worse off than I was, so I should probably go see to that.” He glanced around again, trying once again to locate his missing robe and footwear.

“Of course,” Qui-Gon agreed. He seemed to notice Obi-Wan’s search, and added “Your boots are by the door, if that’s what you’re looking. I’m afraid I can’t help you if you’re looking for your robe, though. You didn’t have it on when you arrived here last night.”

Obi-Wan sighed as he got up and went over to put on his boots, hoping fervently that either Bant or Garen has spotted what had happened to it. He really didn’t want to have to replace it again. The Temple Quartermaster might just refuse him another one if he managed to mislay his third robe this year while _drinking_.

His boots now firmly on his feet, Obi-Wan reached for the door panel. Then he paused, turning back as a sudden, horrible thought occurred to him.

“Oh, Qui-Gon,” he said, his tone trying for casual, but probably missing my a parsec. “I trust I didn’t say anything else...ah...untoward last night?”

Qui-Gon smiled, but there were something under the expression that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite read. “Certainly not. Or, well, you didn’t say anything else that needs to be discussed now, at any rate.”

“....right,” Obi-Wan said, trying to ignore the shiver of unease that answer sent through him. “Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you this evening then.”

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon said, maintaining that enigmatic smile. “Until then, Obi-Wan.”

“Until then,” Obi-Wan echoed. Then he palmed open the door, and set off down the corridor. Bant probably really was looking for him. And really, he owed Garen for letting him wander off to Qui-Gon’s quarters while drunk.


End file.
